His Little Wife Lie: A Billionaire Fake Marriage Romance
Page 3
"I mean, it hurts," I said, pulling my keys out from my waist pack. "Not much I can do about it right now. I think I can drive, though."
"You sure?"
I nodded, dreading the first instant I'd have to shift gears. "Yeah."
And yes, I did try and tell him not to follow me. Again. And yes, that'd he'd already done enough. Again. Of course, he ignored me, and after about fifteen minutes, we'd come to a stop light in the middle of town.
While it flipped from yellow to red, I winced, easing the car into neutral. I took a quick peek in the rear view mirror. So yeah, the virgin thing bugged me.
What kind of man asks a woman a question like that? Him! That's the kind. I kept staring at him, when he caught me looking. Shit.
Without thinking, I put the car in gear and began easing off the clutch.
"Hey!" I heard a muffled voice yell. The thump of a fist on the hood caught my attention. "Watch it lady!"
Oh shit. Jesus. "Sorry!" I mouthed, horrified I'd pulled into the crosswalk.
What is happening to me? I've never chased after a man in my life. Wait. Is that what I'm doing? It is, isn't it?
Honk! Honk!
My gaze shot to the rearview mirror to see his truck easing toward the rear bumper. Green means go!
Of course, right on cue, Tiny Me chimed in, offering the usual annoying advice.
Get your mind out of the gutter. We've got bigger problems than your raging urges. Ernie… Your job… Hello?
"Shut up."
Not long after, we turned down my street and pulled into the driveway of the small double wide rental home I shared with my mom. It wasn't much, but it was cheap, clean, and close to work. All in all, things could be worse. I glanced in the rearview mirror again.
Maybe they already were.
I put the car in park and sighed. Ugh. So not only does he know I am a virgin, he also knows where I work and now, where I live. Perfect.
What else could possibly…
I shouldn't have asked. No sooner did I start to get out than Mom pulled up behind, honking her car horn. Oh awesome.
Hooking my hand on the top of the door to steady myself, I watched Griff turn and glance over his shoulder. My mom flipped her hands off the steering wheel while shooting him an icy glare. Get out of my way, meathead!
After he moved, she pulled in and parked. This should be fun.
"Who's that?" she demanded, jumping out of her car and slamming the door. She froze, her eyes locked on my leg like it was on fire. "What's wrong with your ankle? Why is it bandaged?"
I rolled my eyes. "No one, Mom. Nothing. Why aren't you at work?"
By now, she was right in front of me, waving her cell phone in my face and flashing the time.
"A little thing called lunch. Maybe you've heard of it?" She wasn't done. "Who. Is. He? Is your leg turning blue?"
I glanced down. Blue? What?
"Uh! No! Listen, I told you, he's no one. I had some car trouble at the trail and he helped me. He just followed me home to make sure the car didn't break down. Really."
She didn't buy it.
"Followed you home? How do you know he's not some maniac? Now he knows where you live!"
Maniac? Hah! If she only knew…
"Mom, he's not a maniac. Drop it, please."
I could hear the low rumble of his pickup while it sat there idling. God, what he must be thinking right now. He's probably sitting there knowing we're talking about him, enjoying every second of it, I'm sure.
Mom brought me back to reality, dosing me with another round of concern. "And how did you hurt yourself? Did he do that to you? If I told you once, I've told you a thousand times…"
Pinching my eyes shut, I reached for the bridge of my nose. God help me. "I know, I know. Don't go the trail by myself. Mom, go inside. I'll be in there in a few minutes. We can talk then. Please."
A deep scowl framed her face. She huffed out a yes we will before walking away, at last disappearing inside the house.
No idea how I'd lie my way out of this. She's not gonna let it go until she had all the details. Not that I had any to give. And the ones I did have about what happened leading up to him possibly saving my life? Man. That would only lead to yet another lecture about the trail.
Yeah, not interested.
A few tender steps later, I hobbled over to a waiting Griff. His face came into view, and I caught myself starting to leer at him again. He snapped me out of it with a one-word question.
"Problem?"
Where do I start? "No. Just my mother being nosy."
He gave me a slow nod, then pointed at my phone. "Lemme see it."
"Why?"
"Your job, remember? In case something happens, I can help out."
I started to curl my fingers around it, stammering out another refusal. "No really, I…"
But the bastard snatched it. While I tried to figure out how he'd done it, he thumbed away for a few seconds before passing it back to me with a quip.
"You might want to save that number to your favorites. I'm sure it's going to be yours."
Cocky Mother… "I'm sure."
"Give me yours." He stopped himself and arched an eyebrow at me. "I've gotta warn you though, I'm not a virgin."
I shook my head and texted the number to him. "I won't hold it against you."
His phone chimed, and a smile curled at the corner of his kissable, delicious-looking lips. The look in his eyes said it all. You'll be hearing from me, count on it. I hobbled back a step, collecting my thoughts.
"I um, don't know how to thank you enough for what you did for me today. For all I know, you probably saved my life. Not sure I'll ever be able to repay you."
He let my comment linger for an uncomfortable second, or three. Griff leaned back in the seat and put his truck in gear.
"Don't mention it, Sneaks. I'll think of something. Trust me."
5
Bride Or Bust (Griff)
I bit my lip, staring across the room at him. Now what? This was sure as shit not how I saw this going.
Been in this room countless times in my life, but I never remembered it seeming so… small. Everything about this whole goddamn place, especially him, seemed larger than life when I was a kid. Funny how the fucking mind works - distorting memories, warping time.
I almost took a step in his direction when Sneaks popped in my mind. Well, even if this goes to shit, this trip won't be a total waste.
Just then, he motioned for me.
I hadn't seen him since the last of his six heart procedures. The poor sonofabitch looked worse after each one. Hell, even for men half his age, recovering would be difficult. It had only been a couple of weeks since the most recent one, but from the looks of all the wires, tubes, and equipment, this one didn't seem like a success either.
"Papa." I stopped next to his bed, a few feet away from him. "How ya feelin'?"
He peered at me through those thick gray caterpillars that passed for eyebrows and grumbled. "How do you think? Same as always. Like hell."
Stubborn. If I had to describe him in a word, that's it. For whatever reason, he kept hanging on. I wasn't sure for what though. Grams died a couple of years ago. They were together for sixty-one years. Figured he'd go quick, but nope, here he was. Still kicking.
Fuck it. Let's get this over with.
"Are you ready to talk, Papa?"
A haggard cough rippled across his body, sending him into a brief fit. It subsided soon after, followed by a not-so-great response to my question.
"I am, but you're not going to like what I have to say."
The fuck? I crossed my arms at my chest, readying myself for the worst. Man, I had no clue how unprepared I was.
"I'm not going to waste words, son. There's no time. I'm proud of what you've done with the company. It was a helluva lot more than a decade plus of high-priced MBAs could accomplish… put together! You deserve all the credit for the turnaround. I'm not going to sit here and pretend you don't."
In case it wasn't, I readied myself for the inevitable but… Sure enough, I got it.
"But you're too wild, Griff. That's it in a nutshell."
He lost me. No clue what he was talking about. I workout, eat right, rarely drink, don't smoke, and have never done a drug in my fucking life. When it comes to business, I'm all business, all the time. I only take the most precisely calculated gambles - all of which have paid off. If anyone deserved the reins when Papa finally kicked, it was me.
Funny thing is, everyone agreed. Everyone that is, except Papa.
I grimaced at him. "Yeah. I'm not following. Wanna fill me in on the 'too wild' part?"
Papa's frail arms straightened while he pushed himself upright in bed. He reached for the corners of his mouth, wiping them. After, he smacked his lips, pointing at me.
"It's the women. You've got no control over your urges. Face it, it's your blind spot, and you know it. Sooner or later, one of them will lead you astray, and the company will suffer as a result. Look what it did to your father."
After Mom died of cancer, Dad never recovered, drinking himself into an early grave and leaving the job of raising me up to Papa. Still, can't believe Papa went there. The hell with this.
"That's a bullshit comparison, and you know it. After doing nothing but good for this company for almost a decade, I deserve better. I'm not gonna stand here and listen to this."
Papa's age-darkened eyes flashed with focus. His torso angled toward me. It looked like the old man might levitate. "Yes you will stand there and listen! If you don't, there's not going to be a company for you to run when I die. Do you follow that?"
I exhaled. "Go on."
"You need to get married, and you need to do it soon. If I die before it happens, the company's assets will be liquidated and…"
I couldn't help it. Covering my mouth with a fist, I spit laughter into it. The old man got me. Wily bastard.
"Papa. You… You almost had me." My amusement settled. "Almost!"
Only he didn't look to be in on the joke. He fixed an icy glare on me and picked up where he left off.
"And if you aren't married before I die, the company's assets will be liquidated and donated to Forever Forests. You know how much your Grandmother loved that charity."
No. Fuck. That. What I knew about them was that they were just a front for environmental groups who were constantly fucking up our timber production with court injunctions.
This was a stupid fucking plan.
The old man had too much nitro flowing through his veins or something. What the fuck was going on here?
"Papa," I raked my hand through my hair. "What the hell are you thinking? This is insane. Why do you want to throw away everything we've worked so hard to build for generations! I mean, Forever Forests? Give me a fucking break!"
He waved me off and got right back into lecture mode.
"Everything has it's time in this world, and mine, and possibly Foster Holdings, is coming to its end. As far as the donation goes, some of the world's greatest advances are thanks to the charity of wealthy men - Carnegie, Rockefeller, and so on. I'm not 'throwing anything away'. The donation will help countless thousands of people."
I bit my lip. He kept going, his tone pissing me off even more.
"Don't worry. If you're not interested in carrying on the family legacy, there will be something for you. Fifty million. You've earned it."
I scoffed. Fifty million? Fucking chump change. Might as well be zero. Shit, I could make fifty million on my own starting from nothing. No, I'd turned this sleepy lumber business into a colossus, worth tens of billions. No fucking way I’d settle for trinkets.
But marriage? Fuck me.
And anyway, of all the women in my orbit right now, exactly zero of them were wife material. Hell, half of them I never saw again after dipping my wick the first night. It's not like it was a secret around town.
Pussy for pleasure, business for keeps.
The old man watched me in silence, I'm sure he relished the sight of gears cranking in my brain. Can't believe I'm even considering this horseshit. I sat down, looking at him.
I wiped a hand down my face, exhaling. "Let's say I agree to this. What happens if you die, but I'm still not married?"
"You've got six months." Papa raised his hand to his mouth, battling another coughing fit. "Not a day longer. Don't worry about me dying. I'm going to be at that wedding."
He didn't answer the question, but fuck, knowing him, he would live until the 'I do's' were done and then kick, probably as soon as Mrs. Griff Foster turned and walked down the aisle.
Mrs. Griff. Foster.
My mind went blank.
A wife?
Papa didn't give me much room to think.
"Griff, the company has been in existence for almost one hundred and fifty years. That entire time a Foster has been at the helm. Now, you need to do what's right. Claim what you've worked for, what's rightfully yours. It may seem difficult to consider, but in the long run, it's the best thing for you."
Later that night, I was lying there wide awake, staring at the ceiling, and imagining Papa cooking up this little scheme of his with his attorneys. No telling what that conversation must have been like. I'm sure they relished it.
To be honest, I didn't much care for any of them with the possible exception of Grant Turloin, the head of the firm. The rest of them were more or less what you'd expect of men who make their living off the backs of the successful.
None of them ever left much of an impression on me except one who grated on my nerves for some reason. I forget his fucking name. Mark? Matthew? Mitchell? Yeah, Mitchell, that was it.
Whatever. It didn't really matter.
Under no circumstances did I want to wind up in a room with any of them and sign away my rightful inheritance because I didn't live up to my end of Papa's bargain.
Fuck.
It was then I realized I had no choice.
Now, all I had to do was convince her.
6
Leverage (Griff)
"Mrs." Chop!
"Griff." Chop!
"Foster." Chop!
I never missed a check, decimating log after log with ease. Growing up as a Foster, splitting lumber was something I was expected to learn. Not that I ever used it once in my life. It was a carryover, an outdated tradition. Something fucking unnecessary to operate in the fast-paced world of today.
In a way, it was just like this marriage nonsense. Exactly like it.
The callouses in my hands began to give way, so I tossed the ax aside, grabbed the last of the logs I'd split, and stacked them. The early morning moisture in the air and the friction on my hands told me it was about time to wrap up and get to work.
And the job for today wasn't like any I'd ever had in my life.
It was time to find myself a pretend bride, a fake-wife-to-be. The good news is I already had the perfect candidate in mind. Now, it was all a matter of negotiation. I'd have to convince her it was in her interest to become my beloved - at least long enough to convince Papa I'd kept the promise I made.
After a quick shower and a hot cup of black coffee, I grabbed a seat on the veranda. Early morning sunshine crept across the valley floor like fiery fingers while I dialed up the creamery at eight o'clock sharp.
"Tiller Creek Creamery, Dolores speaking."
I finished the final sip of smoky black liquid, and the heat raced down my gullet. "Looking for Dillard. Is he available?"
I didn't figure that approach would work. It didn't.
"Um, may I ask who's calling?"
"Griff Foster." I leaned back in the chair, kicking my feet up on the table in front of me.
She didn't buy it. "Griff… Foster. As in Foster,
Foster?"
"The one and only."
"Riiiighhht…" she scoffed. "Are you one of Ernie's friends? Is this a prank? Seriously, we are extremely busy right now and…"
Fucking Ernie again. This guy's a real piece of work.
"Yeah listen, not a prank. I'll come down there if needed, but I'd rather just speak with him on the phone. Is that gonna be a problem?"
She went quiet. Doubt she'd call my bluff but whatever, it was a chance I was willing to take.
"Um, hold please."
I didn't know how smart this Dillard guy was but assuming he was related to Ernie, I didn't have high hopes. Even so, my proposal was simple, straightforward. It wouldn't take much intelligence on his part to see that what I had to say made perfect sense.
The phone made a clicking sound. "Dillard Watson."
His tone sounded rushed, maybe pissed he'd been summoned by a Foster. My family's reputation is misunderstood, especially out here. Anyway, not my problem.
"Dillard, name's Griff Foster. Not sure if your secretary mentioned it or not…"
"She did. She's not my secretary but…" The edge in his voice grew sharper. "What can I do for you, sir?"
You're about to find out. "I'm calling about one of your employees, Lily Weischlitz. It's a personal matter."
He cleared his throat. "What about her, Mr. Foster?"
That got his attention. Wonder why?
"It's Griff. After all, Lily's a mutual friend."
No response. Just what sounded like faint hints of mouth-breathing on the other end of the line.
"I'll just get right to it." I stood from the chair, grabbing a much needed stretch. "I know what you've done. Your little arrangement with Lily? Forcing her to go out with your pathetic excuse for a nephew in exchange for some extra hours. I mean, come on man, what the fuck were you thinking?"
He went dead silent, even the heavy breathing stopped. I kept going.
"Not sure what kind of pseudo-prostitution operation you're running over there but yesterday, Ernie assaulted her on my family's property."
Dillard fired off a rapid series of coughs, sputtering disbelief. "He… what? Come again?"